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Monday, October 22, 2012

This Apartment Rocks

Last week Rayne and I put some finishing touches on our apartment.

It can be a bit of an uphill battle, but once I get Rayne going on cleaning and organizing, he is a machine. My personal Dirt Devil. And Roomba. And MacGyver. And Alton Brown. It's quite fabulous, actually, given how much I despise housework.

My hubby, he even uses a tape measure to put pictures up on the walls. So they're perfect, you see? What more could a girl ask for?

Anyhow, we had a few square glass vases that once housed flowers from our baby shower. Rayne suggested we fill them with colored glass beads and place them on the window sill for decoration. Cute idea, right?

It was late at night when I went online to find something suitable. On Crate and Barrel I happened upon these River Stones, and through some inexplicable short circuit in my mommy brain, I actually bought them.

From the website: "Hand-gathered natural river stones are sorted, tumbled and waxed by hand to provide a natural accent for candle displays, vases and fountains."

Sorted, tumbled and waxed by hand. By hand! Obviously they were perfect.

A few days later, my bourgeois folly arrived in the mail: a cardboard box containing a plastic jar of rocks. The rocks had broken the cap off the jar. Because they were rocks. In a plastic jar.

Rocks! I bought rocks. I BOUGHT ROCKS. I paid money for rocks. R.O.C.K.S.

I live in a building in Brooklyn filled primarily with artists and hipsters. My contribution to the neighborhood is gentrification via the online purchase of hand-gathered ROCKS.

Please make me feel less bad about myself. What have you recently bought that makes you shudder?

Deb is a freelance writer and mom. She lives in New York with her husband, toddler son and a sweet but neurotic corgi. She blogs regularly at Urban Moo Cow, a place for thoughtful analysis of modern parenting ~ with a side of humor.

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I’m Deb. I live in New York with my husband and our son, daughter and neurotic corgi. Once, in the sleepless days of my son's first weeks, I caught my husband beaming at us nursing. You are a very good Moo Cow, he said, kissing me on the head. A nickname was thus born. Urban Moo Cow offers thoughtful analysis of modern parenting ~ with a side of humor. Thanks for stopping by! (Photo credit: Sarah Brooks)